The battlefield trembled with anticipation.
Smoke still lingered from the last explosion—embers dancing across the broken stones. Bodies lay still in the distance, soldiers of the Empire and rebels alike. The sky had turned the color of bruised steel, as if the heavens themselves were holding their breath.
In the middle of it all stood Imperial Alden.
Alone. Surrounded.
His sword sparked with tendrils of raw lightning, the current flickering in rhythm with his heartbeat. Scorch marks streaked across his clothes, blood running down his left arm. Yet, his grip didn't loosen. His gaze didn't waver.
Before him stood four Vice Generals, elites among elites.
Each bore a different magic. Each held enough power to topple cities.
Cravik – the Chain Binder, muscles coiled like rope, eyes cold and calculating.
Velda – the Blood Mage, smiling with her crimson-stained hands like she was sculpting a masterpiece.
Morne – the String Controller, a quiet specter in dark robes, strings glinting between his fingers like a puppeteer's threads.
And Dragan – the Steel Arm, towering and broad, half his body already transformed into gleaming metal.
The four formed a loose circle, slowly closing in.
Imperial's blade hummed with energy.
"You punks don't stand a chance from here on out.," Velda purred. "Your allies are scattered. Your strength is impressive… but foolish."
Imperial rolled his neck, lightning crackling along his skin. "Four of you… to stop one of me? Should I be honored… or insulted?"
Cravik's expression remained stony. You're nothing more than a stupid kid .We're not here to honor you."
Morne raised a hand.
One thread moved.
That was all the warning Imperial had.
________________________________________
The attack began.
Chains snapped out of the ground like snakes, wrapping toward Imperial's ankles.
He leapt just before they struck, twisting midair.
Boom!
The ground erupted where he had stood.
Mid-flight, a glimmer caught his eye—strings, coming from above. Morne had climbed unseen atop the ruins of a broken tower, using the shadows.
Imperial grinned.
"Predictable."
He spun once and let his lightning loose.
"Lightning magic: arc vault!"
A horizontal slash of raw voltage tore through the air, severing the threads and collapsing the top of the tower in a rain of stone. Morne vanished into the rubble.
But the sky wasn't done with him yet.
Velda's blood floated above her palms—shimmering spheres that pulsed like hearts.
"Blood Magic: Rain of Sin."
Dozens of droplets hardened into crimson spears.
Imperial landed and immediately dashed.
The spears slammed into the earth behind him in quick succession, the impact sending spikes of blood-energy erupting like geysers.
One grazed his side—burning hot, acidic.
He winced. Just a little.
Cravik came next, his chains extending from both arms, swinging like whips.
"Binding Magic: Dual Lash!"
The first chain missed. The second hit.
Clang!
It wrapped around Imperial's sword arm.
But instead of panicking, Imperial widened his stance.
"That was a mistake."
He clenched his hand, and lightning exploded from his forearm.
The chain didn't snap—it melted.
Cravik's eyes widened.
Imperial vanished.
Lightning walk.
He reappeared behind Cravik and drove his elbow into the Vice General's back. Cravik stumbled forward.
Imperial raised his blade.
But a shimmer caught his eye—too late.
Morne, still alive, launched a set of threads from the ground. They coiled up like vines and wrapped around Imperial's legs, halting his momentum just long enough for Dragan to enter the fray.
"Steel Magic: Compression Drive!"
His arm morphed, forming a long lance. He thrust it forward like a bullet.
Clang!
Imperial just barely brought his sword up.
Sparks exploded as steel met lightning.
The force of the blow sent imperial sliding across the ground, his boots carving trenches into the earth.
He knelt, panting once. His shoulders rose and fell.
The Vice Generals didn't speak. They were trained to strike when their opponent breathed.
But that was his trap.
Imperial raised his hand.
"Lightning Circle: Chain Breaker!"
A sudden pulse surged outward—circular, brilliant.
Every magical object within five meters—threads, blood spells, chains—disintegrated.
The spell was short-ranged. Costly. But it gave him space.
He blurred again, this time appearing above Dragan.
"Take this—!!"
He flipped mid-air and drove his blade downward like a comet.
Boom!
The impact cratered the ground and sent shockwaves rippling across the battlefield.
Dust flew. The smoke hissed.
Then—
A flash of red.
Velda was already mid-cast.
"Blood Magic: Cradle of Agony!"
A sphere of blood formed mid-air, growing larger, pulsing dangerously.
Imperial's instincts flared. He leapt, but the spell detonated.
Blood tendrils shot outward like spikes, some grazing his shoulder and leg.
He landed hard—rolling, panting.
More cuts. More blood.
His coat was torn now. His sword arm was visibly bruised.
And still—he rose.
"You're all annoying." His voice was steady, but low.
Dragan cracked his metal neck. "You're still alive. That's impressive."
Morne stepped into view, his cloak singed, one hand bleeding.
Velda wiped a smear of blood from her cheek and grinned. "Let's see how long that lasts."
________________________________________
They came again.
Together.
Imperial know that they are not giving their all and still imperial is just moreover defensive side . He then understand the power of the vice generals.
Cravik launched a net of chains from above—he'd climbed onto one of the fallen towers.
Imperial ducked, sliding beneath the web as threads from Morne came from the left and right. Velda hovered mid-air now, manipulating blood spears from all directions.
And Dragan stomped forward with heavy steps, his body shining brighter, now completely armored in steel.
Clang. Slash. Boom.
Steel struck lightning.
Blood hit flesh.
Chains wrapped around limbs and necks, only to be torn again.
Threads sliced the air, only to be dodged.
For ten straight minutes, Imperial fought.
Every swing of his blade left sparks. Every movement dodged death.
He spun beneath a thread, kicked off a wall, flipped over a steel strike, and countered with a surge of electricity that sent Cravik tumbling.
At one point, he rammed his shoulder into Velda's midsection mid-air and slammed her through the floor.
But time…
Time was catching up.